


Life In Plan

by ForestIyari



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, midnight ramblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11799072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForestIyari/pseuds/ForestIyari
Summary: She's 16 when he catches her, and their life goes on from there





	Life In Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Although I’m not posting I have four WIPs that are taunting me. This is me sitting down at 3:30am and saying “ignore them, just write something- anything”.
> 
> And I swear- despite appearances, this is Captain Swan, it’s not Liemma.
> 
> Part 2 will be posted later in the week.

She's 16 when he catches her.

"Bad form, Lass. Take that out of your pocket and put it back on the shelf." His hand on Emma's arm, grip tight- there's no chance of escape and his voice- low, commanding... Dangerous- brokers no room for argument... "Now." Reluctantly she curls her fingers around the pilfered candy bars and withdraws her hand from her pocket, briefly considering throwing them in his face to try and escape, but his hold on her is so solid she doubts it's an option.

He must be new here- the ill-fitted uniform marking him as a member of staff, but his accent decidedly foreign. He's older than her, but not by much, and obviously much more observant than the other youths that work here- it's the first time in three months she's been caught. Emma replaces the chocolate on the shelf, ignoring the pang of hunger that runs through her before meeting his gaze defiantly- challenging him to make his next move.

"There,” A smile washes over his face and his grip relaxes, although he doesn't remove his hand completely. "Was that so hard?"

"Yes." She bites back, determined not to agree with a word he says.

"Tell me Lass, at the end of the day, when stock goes missing, who do you think gets the blame? Whose wages get docked?" He raises his eyebrows in question, obviously expecting her to answer- but it's honestly not something she's thought about before... It's not like she steals for profit.

"Tell me Boy," Her lips curl back, a snarl in place, "Where else is my meal coming from?" Emma gets the desired response- he jerks back, surprised, and she's free. Because she's learned recently that no one expects a pretty blonde in glasses to be homeless, to be a runaway- and defying expectations gains her an advantage. She should be running now, she knows this- the second his hand was off her arm she should have been gone- but now she wants an answer from him.

He regains his composure slowly, straightens up and extends a hand. She looks down on it, bewildered, because just what is she supposed to do with that? It takes a few moments to realise he's expecting to shake her hand.

"Liam Jones, at your service."

"Emma Swan. Whatever."

***

The next night she avoids the convenience store and heads uptown to the soup kitchen. She hates it there- with the suspicious eyes and roaming hands and social workers it reminds her too much of the group homes she's experienced, but she can't go any longer without food and the warmth and shelter it provides is a nice distraction for a while.

It's late- too late for any real food to be left- when she sees him enter. Liam Jones, the boy from last night and for a fleeting crazy moment she imagines he's here for her- but no one comes for her, she learnt that long ago. She can see his uniform collar peeking out from beneath the oversized knitted sweater he wears as he shuffles to the end of the line, accepting the dregs of stew with a small smile meant to appease the over-enthusiastic do-gooder that serves him without inviting conversation.

She waits for him to leave then follows him, curious. He walks for what seems like miles- away from the convenience store and her usual haunts- before furtively climbing through a broken basement window.

Dawn is threatening and she considers... Stupid... She's so far from "home" she won't make it back in time to sleep before the rush hour traffic makes it impossible and she knows her only real option is to take a leap of faith- to trust Liam on his pledge.

_At your service_

To say he's surprised when she lands beside him is an understatement, but after a long gaze and a nod he settles back down on his side. Wordlessly she mirrors him, their backs not quite touching.

***

She's 17 when he saves her.

Because this was never really what she planned to do, but just walking by isn't a commitment and considering doesn't mean deciding.

And she's not really a virgin anyway- not since Mr Fowler and his son's education back in eighth grade.

"What the hell were you doing on Hazel, Emma?" He doesn't shout and she really wishes he would- because she can deal with anger, with violence- but this silent, stubborn, disappointed rage she has no idea what to do with. It's the kind of anger that implies caring and emotion and she's never been good at that.

Never had a chance to be.

"I wasn't on Hazel." She lies, knows that he sees straight through it with the flash that shoots through his eyes, and some complicated unnamed part of her rushes to clarify. "I mean... I walked down Hazel, but I wasn't "on" Hazel. Not in that way." And she wasn't. Not yet. She hadn't decided yet.

"Emma..." The relief in his face is evident, but he's no fool. "I swear, if I find you're turning tricks..." He grinds out the words through gritted teeth and she can't stop the anger from rising.

"You'll do what Liam?" The words slap him sharply and she sees the hard edge run from his eyes, replaced by something more... Desperate.

"Just please, Emma. Not you. Come to me first."

***

They're not always in each other's lives.

Liam works every shift he can at the convenience store and around the holidays picks up extra at the factories- she's not sure how he manages it- knows that somehow he must have a bank account, some papers.

Emma cleans occasionally- cash in hand from the nicer neighbourhoods- but only enough to get her through a few weeks' meals at a time.

She lives in the moment while he saves.

They've spoken enough for her to grasp why- to understand there's a brother he wants to provide for, wants to rescue and bring to The States. She knows he's younger, knows Liam truly believes he can do it- save enough for an apartment, a flight, a visa. Emma wishes she could believe in anything the way that Liam believes in his plan.

But for the moment it's nice to know that there's always a solid back she can sleep against should she need it.

She doesn't need it.

***

She's 18 when he rescues her.

When Emma and Neal's Bonnie and Clyde adventure stutters to a halt at a roadside, The Bug tired of running on fumes and steam pouring from the undercarriage. She walks a mile back along the way they came to the payphone, praying Liam still works the midday shift and his manager will let him take a call. He does, he will.

But when she gets back to where she started there's no yellow VW waiting, no Neal with open arms and an easy smile.

Somehow Liam gets the bus driver to stop in the middle of nowhere to pick her up. She has no idea how, too out of it to really care. She's sunburnt and sore and goddamn heartbroken.

And that's before she realises she's pregnant.

Liam never judges, never really says a word about it.

He contacts the social workers, lets her hate him just a bit for that.

He takes the looks, the comments in his stride- lets everyone believe that it's his fault, that he was irresponsible enough to knock up the teenager he's living rough with- just another pair of runaway statistics.

He brings her the adoption papers, reads then through, tells her where to sign, lets her love him just a bit for that.

Then it's over.

The baby's gone and it's just Emma and Liam again. Except it's not. Because he's almost done it, he says; almost has the deposit for an apartment and enough rent saved up to make it a viable option.

And she loves him for it, she really does, is so happy for him.

But then there's the reason she went off with Neal in the first place- because she doesn't belong in that world. The world of apartments and steady income- that's life stuff and Emma Swan... She doesn't have a life, she has the here and now... Anything beyond that is a bonus.

***  
Emma drifts for what seems forever.

She knows that theft isn't a way of life. She as good as promised Liam she wouldn't turn tricks. The gangs are easy to get into but impossible to get out of. She can pull off the confidence tricks but the victims leave her feeling... Dirty...

Emma doesn't have a plan.

Emma doesn't have parents or a GED or transferable skills.

Emma has a rucksack of clothes, a library card and three stretchmarks that refuse to fade.

Emma has Liam, she knows she does... But Liam doesn't need Emma.

***

She's 20 when he inspires her.

"Emma, how hard is it to find a missing person, d'you reckon?" He asks. It's winter and the window of the room he's renting doesn't close properly- the draft meaning they huddle on the bed in beanies and gloves. And she knows it's a rung on the ladder of his plan but apart from the mattress being dry she doesn't see much improvement over the basement they've squatted in for free for years.

"What sort of missing person?" She responds with trepidation... Because she's spent too many hours at the library looking for any clue as to her parents' whereabouts and probably just as many looking into the history he doesn't tell her. She's gotten pretty good at computers.

"You remember that guy Rick that I work with?"

"The one who thought buying me McDonalds made us an item?" She clarifies with a raised eyebrow- because they've laughed way too much over that fiasco.

"The very same." He grins back at her, not at all ashamed of having allowed her to defend her own honour, deleting the CCTV footage of her 'assault' now that he has managerial responsibilities. "He hasn't shown up for work the past three days, which isn't unusual, but..."

"Doesn't he owe you money?" 

"$400 advance on his wages- out of my pocket." 

"How much do I get if I find him?" She asks and he grins.

"$100."

"$250."

"$150."

"Done." They shake and the following day Emma has a small fortune in her pocket.

***

Emma's good at finding people.

Really good.

She gets it now- the planning, because when she brings in her first skip and is looking at the cash in her hands there's too much there to not plan.

She could survive for a year on that pay check.

Or she could start living.

And after the third skip she brings it up with Liam- because comparatively there's not that much difference between a one-bed and a two-bed apartment in a nice enough area. So that summer they move in and she has a room, a closet, a bed. They share a kitchen and a television.

At first she can't believe the bills, but it doesn't take that long to get used to.

Their apartment, their things, their life.

***

She's 21 when he breaks her heart.

"I bought Killian a plane ticket- he'll be here on Thursday."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
